


Solitude

by agentz123



Series: Duck Twin Week 2021 [5]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Anger, Coping, Donald Duck is in the Navy, Duck Twin Week, Duck Twin Week (Disney), Duck Twin Week 2021 (Disney), Duck Twins, Gen, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love, Prisoner of War, Psychological Horror, Sleep, Solitary Confinement, Torture, Twin Bond, Warped Reality, experimental writing style, motivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29715339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123
Summary: Donald is captured.Duck Twin Week 2021, Day 3 - Sleep (Donald)
Relationships: Donald Duck & Della Duck
Series: Duck Twin Week 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094204
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	Solitude

Donald’s eyes flew open. 

He couldn’t sleep. Not anymore. Escape eluded him at every twist and turn. 

He rolled onto his stomach, the cold concrete chomping at his deteriorating joints. The whispers clawed at him, preening his feathers and crawling up and down his paling flesh. 

_Gouge your eyes._

_Chop your throat._

_Die._

He was trembling so hard his entire world vibrated. He wasn’t sure if he was shaking from the heat or cold. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. Only emptiness. 

But how could he feel something that wasn’t there?

_Swallow your tongue._

_Bite off your toes._

_Die._

Nothing else had worked. They tried restraining him until his rope burns bled, scarred, and bled again. Beating him until the snaps of bones echoed through his memories. Plunging hot iron so deep into his skin smoke stung at his nostrils. Tickling him until his throat smoldered from his screams.

But he wouldn’t talk. 

He couldn’t even tell if he wanted to. His vocal chords had crumpled from dehydration. His mind was muddled. His name? How long has he been here? What information were they even demanding from him? 

His eyes slammed shut in an attempt to escape. 

_Die._

_Die._

_Die._

He now understands why it’s referred to as “the art of escape.” The way it continues to evade him, no matter how fast he chases after it...its expertise is almost beautiful. Its grace is almost astounding. 

Almost. 

So they placed him in solitary confinement instead. A fate perhaps even worse than death, especially for him. Sure, he has been in unfortunate predicaments before. He even yawned at the Chinese water torture method that they had tried to utlize, ignorant of the fact that the duck grew up under Scrooge McDuck, who tended to shut off the shower at random intervals to save on the water bill. But he has never been alone before. Never. He didn’t even hatch by himself. Part of his heart had always belonged in another body that just happened to never leave his side. 

_So what am I, chopped liver?_

Donald’s eyes flew open. 

_Hel-loooo? Earth to Donald?_

Was that him? Was he in another haze? The chirps seemed to be coming from one of the corners of the cramped cell. He dug his fingers into the concrete in order to drag himself to one of his puddles of urine and gaze into the murky liquid longingly. 

_Drink it._

_Die._

_Oh, shut up, will ya!_

He stared deeper. “D…?” he coughed. _Della? What are you doing here?_

_Are you kidding? You know I’d never leave you, Don._

A small part of him thought he was crazy. A small part of him told him he was crazy. That she was a liar—or rather, HE was a liar. Della wasn’t actually here. 

Was she?

_I’m so lucky to have someone that looks like me…_

He reached out to caress her cheek. 

_I’m much better looking though. So. When are you busting out of here?_ She asked it so casually, as if he could simply stroll out of there if he really wanted. Like he was in a theatre and wanted to get more popcorn. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but the smile that popped on his face caused his chapped beak to crack further. Escape has been playing many games, dancing in and out of his consciousness for the past few...time. 

_I’m…I’m not angry though. I’m too tired to be angry. I don’t have that strength to get me out of here._

Della laughed. It echoed throughout the chambers, bouncing off the walls and emitting heat. Oh, how he missed her laugh. _Anger doesn’t drive you, ya big palooka. Love does._

“W-what?” His voice is unbearable, a thousand nails scraping against chalkboard in a room full of radio static. She doesn’t seem to mind. 

_Come on. You love your country, so you fight for it. You love sharing your music, which is why you and the Cabs went off in Acapulco. You love sea-salt ice cream, which is why you nearly killed that old lady for taking the last box of the stuff._

_And you love me too much to die without even saying good-bye._

She took on a Scottish brogue for the rest of her exclamations. _Yer_ Donald Duck. _One ae tae greatest warriors ae tae past century. I’m sure ye can get yerself out ae this one. Come on. I’ll even help you out. I’ll be the legs, and you the arms. Just like always._

Donald went to wake himself up, but he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t…

Escaping. 

_Ducks don’t back down._

“Ducks don’t back down,” the soldier growled, straightening his cap and forcing his frail frame upward. He heaved, nearly vomiting on himself, and allowed his sister’s laugh to wrap around him, to give him strength, as he stormed out of the cell.

Donald’s eyes flew open. 

He couldn’t sleep. Not anymore. Escape eluded him at every twist and turn. 

He rolled onto his stomach, the cold concrete chomping at his deteriorating joints. The whispers clawed at him, preening his feathers and crawling up and down his paling flesh...


End file.
